like a record
by justjoy
Summary: "Best friends since childhood, Mouri Ran and Kudo Shinichi were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield – " [Or, the Winter Soldier!AU no one asked for.]
1. like a record

_"Best friends since childhood, Mouri Ran and Kudo Shinichi were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield – "_

* * *

The Winter Soldier's mask falls to the asphalt between them with a clatter, and –

Shinichi freezes mid-kick. Stares.

Hears himself ask, over the ringing silence: _"Ran?"_

And Mouri Ran looks back at him with no hint of recognition in her eyes, and says, "no, _you_ run."

(Which he then does, of course, because Shinichi might be the supersoldier around here but he's never won Ran in a fair fight and the metal arm sure isn't helping matters.

Or the way Ran's hair flows fluidly behind her with every strike, every dodge. Not like he's distracted by that or anything.

Honestly, the Org should've just sent him a telegr– an email, whatever – saying that they had Ran. Shinichi would've come knocking much earlier.)

–

The Osaka castle park is pleasantly uncrowded this early in the morning, save for the few other joggers that mostly register only in his peripheral vision.

"On your left!" Shinichi huffs as he laps another person, and – okay, this man he definitely recognises, because he's one of the regulars. Also, who runs with a baseball cap on, really?

"I'll _show_ ya what's left, ya Tokyo asshole!" yells baseball-cap indignantly, making absolutely zero sense, and Shinichi is quite tempted to answer that he clearly isn't running fast enough if he still has breath to shout.

Instead, Shinichi puts on another burst of speed, and does not snicker at the increasingly inventive string of curses dopplering off into the distance.

Putting in for a transfer to Osaka is shaping up to be a good idea so far, Shinichi thinks. He can definitely get used to this.

.

...well, fine, Shinichi hadn't so much _filed_ the request as sent an email to Uehara-san saying that he was doing it, since everyone knew that Director Yamato was mostly only reachable through his deputy. Which seemed kind of odd, a technosaurus running such an advanced organisation as SHIELD, but then again Shinichi probably wasn't the best person to comment on that.

The others – well, mostly Kuroba and Hakuba, since Toyama was on another spy mission and Kyogoku was back on Asgard – had seemed surprised by his decision, when he'd informed them. Near as Shinichi could figure, just about everyone had assumed he'd be most at home in Tokyo, for the obvious reasons.

Which... not that he was going to fault their logic, but he _was_ , because had they even seen photos of 1940s Tokyo? It was barely recognisable as the same city, even putting aside the fact that he couldn't walk half its streets without feeling like he was still clinging to the side of a train somewhere in the mountains of Hokkaido, snow beating in his face as R–

Point being, there was no point in pretending that Tokyo was more familiar to him than anywhere else, and Shinichi could use some sunny weather anyway.

(He'd woken up the next day after informing Miyano to find a lifetime rail pass in what she insisted on calling his fossil mailbox. And Shinichi would've ordinarily suspected Momiji of having sent it on her behalf, except that the entire concept of "unlimited shinkansen rides" seemed to point right to the billionaire herself, not her PA.

Maybe she understood, a little, the feeling of coming home to find the wallpaper changed and everything shifted three inches to the left.

Or maybe this was downpayment for some favour she'd call in at some point. Whatever. He'd figure it out if it came to that.

Shinichi booked a train to Osaka via Kyoto, because he'd be lying if he said that it didn't feel a little more like home, and tried not to think about how much Ran would've loved the train bentos.)

.

Baseball-cap turns out to be called Hattori Heiji, a JSDF veteran, and they're stll chatting about mystery novels when a car slows to honk at them. "Oi, handsome!"

Shinichi finishes jotting down the list of suggestions – there'd been a lot of authors since Edogawa Rampo, apparently – and looks up just in time to see Toyama Kazuha smirking at Hattori, who'd looked up first.

"Not you," she calls through the open car window. "The one with the nice legs!"

"What am I, the garbage?" grumbles Hattori, and pushes him towards the car with a light shove. "Remember ta call me when you're free, Kudo, I'm gonna bring ya to the best damn takoyaki in town!"

"Oh, is that offer open ta me too if I tell ya that ya have... hmm, nice arms?" he hears Toyama reply as he circles around to the passenger side, and Shinichi laughs so hard he nearly bangs his head on the doorframe.

–

"You didn't tell me that the Winter Soldier had a sense of humour," Shinichi mutters to Toyama later, when they're suiting up to go fight an enemy that he'd thought dead and buried 70 years ago.

When Shinichi said that he missed the forties, he definitely hadn't meant this. Talk about retro, jeez.

"Well, ya sure didn't tell me that she was apparently yer _girlfriend_ , so." The Widow shrugs and ties her hair up with the same ribbon that he's pretty sure doubles as a garotte. "The more ya know, huh?"

Shinichi's eyebrow twitches. "Did you know, your accent only crops up when you're trying to annoy someone?"

"Why, is it working?" she asks airily before going off to heckle Hattori again, and he has to forcibly remind himself that he's _not allowed to kick things indoors, Shinichi, unless you want to roof falling down over our heads_ , which –

(The world, Shinichi thinks, might not be ready for Mouri Ran and Toyama Kazuha to know each other properly.

He sure as heck isn't.)


	2. kaffeeklatsch

_– it always ends in a fight._

* * *

Miyano is staring at him again.

Shinichi tries to ignore it, until the tingling between his shoulders of being watched from behind builds to an unbearable itch. He's fairly certain that he can't actually get a stress headache, but it's not a theory he's really bothered to test.

He returns the documents on the table back to the file Toyama gave him, but doesn't turn around. "Either come in and say your piece, Miyano, or go stare at someone else."

Miracles of miracles, she actually does as he asks – or halfway, at least, since she doesn't budge from the doorway. "You're actually doing it, aren't you."

"If by 'it' you mean looking for Ran, then yes. I am." Shinichi still doesn't look over at her. It's petty of him, probably, but given where he's fairly certain this conversation is going Miyano can afford to take a walk if she'd prefer not talking to his back. "Got a problem with that?"

Miyano's voice is sharp enough to cut even as she stalks over to the table in quick strides. "Would you like the itemised list?"

"Not particularly. As far as I'm concerned, me looking for my friend is none of your business."

"None of my busin– don't you _understand?_ " He thinks Miyano would've been shouting by this point, if she was the kind to do that. "The Winter Soldier is _everyone's_ business, Kudo-kun, outside of whatever idealist utopia you're apparently living in. She's had – "

"At least three dozen confirmed hits over the past seventy years, yes." Shinichi feels a further spike of irritation at the quick flash of surprise across Miyano's face – he's perfectly capable of reading the files Widow put online, contrary to what everyone seems to think, even if it'd taken him a while to find the right ones. "And like I said, I'm looking for Ran. Not the Soldier."

Miyano crosses her arms, lips a thin line. "What makes you think that she's even there to be found?"

"The fact that I'm sitting here alive right now," Shinichi answers shortly, not bothering to elaborate. "And either way, last I checked, there's one person in this room who can fight her on even ground and it's not you. So again, none of your business."

They glare at each other for a long moment.

"You really think it's that simple," Miyano says finally, her words gone oddly flat. "I didn't take you for a fool, Kudo-kun. Guess I was wrong."

"If it was Momiji-san out there, wouldn't you be looking too?" Shinichi shoves his chair back, the file clenched tightly in one hand. "Or do you just not care about anyone enough, Miyano?"

Then Shinichi strides out of the room before either of them can say anything worse. They're probably going to regret their words later – at least, he certainly is – and usually he'd never walk out on an argument halfway through but this is _Ran_ , and, well.

That says it all, really, doesn't it?

.

He wakes up the next morning to find a new app installed on his handphone, and the voice password now changed to _I solemnly swear I am up to no good_ for reasons Shinichi hasn't quite managed to ascertain yet.

The app opens to a bunch of maps with red and blue and green pins: reported sightings of the Winter Soldier and remaining known or suspected hubs of Org activity.

Of course, the interface is over-exaggeratedly simple, and the font big enough to read from an arm's length away (or twice that, with his eyesight), because Miyano either doesn't know how _not_ to be an asshole even while trying not to be, or is doing a damn good job of pretending so anyway.

(In either case, he's not so stubborn as to deny the olive branch for what it is, so he sends quick texts to Momiji and Aoko asking if they have any sorry-we-quarrelled-over-my-childhood-friend gift ideas.

Shinichi briefly considers making something, except that culinary skills have always been more Ran's forte than his, he doesn't want to burn down modern Japan by trying anything too ambitious, and he's not quite sure what he can get that the supreme leader of Miyano Industries can't already afford on her own yen.

Two text alerts arrive in close succession. They're probably having breakfast together, he guesses, as he scrolls through the replies.

Shinichi boots up his laptop to google "cat cafe tokyo", and –

...huh, okay. Not what he was expecting.

He scrolls through the results to find the most offensively cute cafe, because two can play at this game, and makes a note of the blueberry jam brand Momiji specifies in her text.

Cat cafe gift vouchers, plus peanut butter and jam sandwiches. Apparently Miyano might actually be human somewhere deep inside, after all.)

.

Later, after AGASA – or the Professor, as Shinichi still calls it (him?) out of habit – helps him to find the toggle creatively labelled "Captain Grandpa" buried deep in the app's display settings, he finds that it also comes with a function to superimpose percentages on the map, figures that increase and decrease with the appearance of more data and pins.

 _Estimated probability of the Winter Soldier's next appearance at each location based on past history, Shinichi-kun,_ the AI explains helpfully when he asks.

Shinichi barely considers that for a moment before turning it back off. He already has all the history he needs, thank you, he can make his own damn deductions.

And anyway, he's fairly sure Miyano's only accounted for the Soldier, because she has a ridiculous case of tunnel vision for someone who built a flying robot suit out of a box of scraps.

Shinichi, though? He hadn't been lying last night. He's willing to bet his newly-returned fresh-out-of-museum Holmes collection that whoever's out there is more Ran than the Soldier, and no one knows Mouri Ran better than he does.

Certainly no one alive in this century, anyway, his brain supplies – and _wow_ , the thought is so depressing that Shinichi is almost tempted to dump his morning coffee over his own head.

Except then Hattori bounds into the kitchen with loud cheers of _"Field trip! Field trip!"_ while Toyama trails in behind him looking just a hair less than runway-ready for once.

They share a deeply commiserating look, and Shinichi wordlessly fills a fresh mug of coffee and pushes it across the table before she can ask.

Because say what you like about the future, but at least it's got loads more vehemently not-morning people in it. Not that he's ever really out of it, thanks to the serum's effects, but there's a big difference between being able to function before oh-nine-hundred hours and actually _wanting_ to. The flesh is willing but the spirit is weak and so on.

Maybe after they find Ran, Hattori can go race the sun with her and leave him and Toyama to sleep in peace.

("Kazuha," mumbles Toyama as she inhales the coffee black, so either she's reading his mind or he accidentally said that out loud. "If I'm getting stuck on a indefinitely long roadtrip with Heiji, it's not gonna be with someone who still addresses me by my last name. Especially considering that you're apparently on first-name basis with the _Winter Soldier_ , of all people."

Shinichi opens his mouth to reply, but T- Kazuha bulldozes through before he can even speak.

"Besides, I did kiss ya that once, so I think we're quite acquainted enough already, don'tcha think?"

The resulting outburst from Hattori is loud enough to wake the dead, even as Kazuha flutters her eyelashes and says something that's probably more insulting if you're from Osaka, judging from the subsequent increase in volume.

Shinichi sighs into his coffee and thinks, wistfully, about how things were more peaceful during the war.)


	3. interlude one

_Two supersoldiers, a flying man, and a spysassin walk into a bar – oh wait, sorry, wrong joke._

(or, anything's a joke au if you try hard enough. _anything._ )

* * *

 **#1:  
how to get rickrolled in russian**

It goes something like this: Kazuha doing the grand favour of updating the guys about all the good food they've been missing out on worldwide (by virtue of being stuck in an icecube and Japan respectively) over a late takoyaki lunch.

( _Honestly_. Cap she can understand, since the future's probably foreign enough of a country to begin with, and SHIELD had kept him busy enough with ops – Kazuha would know, she'd been with him for two-thirds of them – but what's Heiji's excuse?

And after they'd basically gone on a mini world tour looking for the Soldier, too. What a waste, jeez.)

Ran had started out quietly listening, but Kazuha's totally pretending not to notice how she's warming up to the topic and contributing every now and then, switching to English and back whenever she can't find the words.

Super mission success, Kazuha decides, as she proceeds to expound on the best eateries in Moscow.

"There was that..." Ran begins haltingly, and frowns a little in the way she does when she's trying to recall something fuzzy. "Cabbage roll? With stuffing inside?"

"Oh, golubtsy!" Kazuha grins. "Ya should try the one near the Kremlin, it's got _crayfish_ inside – "

"How– wh–" Heiji splutters at the same time. _"Why do you speak Russian."_

There's a moment of complete silence.

"Don't be a birdbrain, Falcon," says the Black Widow, voice dry as a Siberian winter. "I'm a superspy, of _course_ I speak Russian."

Across the table, the Winter Soldier raises an arm – the metal one – and Kazuha fistbumps her without even looking.

"Я очень рад," chimes in the good Captain from beside her, and Heiji's head hits the table with an audible thunk.

Kazuha grins, triumphant, and reaches over to steal the last takoyaki from his plate.

("I remember when I used to be the most badass person around," Heiji laments to the tabletop.

"Really?" Kazuha says, voice wholly unsympathetic. "'Cause I'm older than ya, Heiji, and unless ya were around during the 1940s – ")

.

(Cap does not know Russian, though if the SHIELD scientists' theories about the serum effects are correct he'd probably have a easier time learning than most everyone else.

Kudo Shinichi, however, _does_ know two certain someones who are more than willing to teach him a phrase or two just to mess with people.

Or specifically Hattori Heiji, in this particular situation.

Whatever. Kazuha thinks it's pretty worth the effort, overall.)


	4. interlude two

_We came here to have a good time and we're feeling so attacked right now, it's great._

(i mean, does it count if that's your day job anyway?)

* * *

 **#2:  
how to (not) get your ass kicked**

It's one week after the Chitauri attack when Shinichi gets a message from Widow asking him to head over to the Tower's training room.

(A week after an actual _alien attack_ on Tokyo, which – Shinichi's still trying to process that on top of everything else, but at least, if he still had any doubts over whether he's actually in the future or having some really weird hallucinations from hypothermia... his imagination can definitely do better than big ugly monsters from the sky.

The future, Shinichi decides, is highly questionable.)

He arrives at the room – which is mostly a well-reinforced basement with unusually high ceilings, as far as he can tell, though at least it escaped damage in the attack – to find Miyano in the Iron Lady armour, doing figure-eight loops several inches off the ground in her suit while Toyama hangs from her shoulders, poking single-handedly at her handphone.

"I hope you didn't summon me here to watch more 'cat videos' together, Widow," Shinichi says dryly, since he's fairly certain that's what they're doing. "I'm not sure we're both going to fit."

"Oh, I don't know, Cap." Toyama spares him a considering glance before hopping off in a neat backflip to land on her feet. "Take that shield off your back, and we just might?"

Miyano makes a sound disturbingly close to an annoyed cat, which is even more disconcerting over the distortion of the suit's speakers. "I'm not your personal flight attendant, Toyama-san, hire a pilot if you want one."

Toyama waves one hand, airily. "Eh, SHIELD doesn't pay me enough for that. Anyway, I thought we could get some fight practice in, Kudo-kun, I'm sure you did that during the war."

He frowns. "Yeah, we did, but wasn't I supposed to be helping the crews downtown today?"

"I sent Dum-E and a couple of the other lab robots over, they're not supersoldiers but I'm going to scrap them if they can't lift rubble," quips Miyano, still in her usual robot impression. "Full offense, Cap, but you fight like someone out of the forties. It's bad for our image."

"Really?" Shinichi crosses his arms, and deliberately does not reach for his shield. "Says the civilian who doesn't know how to throw a proper punch."

("Ooh, _burn,_ " he hears one of the air vents in the wall whisper in Hawkeye's voice, just past the edge of hearing.

...well, non-serum-enhanced hearing, that is.

Possibly non-robot-enhanced hearing too, judging by the narrow eyed glare he's fairly certain is being directed that way from behind the faceplate.)

"Stop encouraging them and get out here, Kuroba," Toyama tells the vent as she moves to put herself between them – which is more impressive than it sounds, since between the serum and flying armour they both have a good dozen centimetres on her, at least. "You both have good points, which is why Miyano's going to be working with Hawkeye on how not to rely just on laser-beaming everyone while I educate Cap on all the weapons they've invented since the 1940s. Any questions?"

"It's a repulsor, not a _laser!_ " Miyano protests, over the sound of a metal grating being pushed aside.

"I dunno, Miyano," Kuroba says as he drops out of the vent to land lightly on his feet. "Kinda looks the same to the rest of us without multiple PhDs?"

Shinichi rolls his eyes. "Did you really need us both here at the same time for that, Toyama?" he cuts in before the argument goes any further, because it's perfectly valid question.

There's a clear logic behind each exercise – Widow's a close-range fighter like him, while Hawkeye uses ranged weapons (though he's been tempted to point out that they hadn't used arrows even back in his war), so it's as good a matchup as they're probably going to get.

Except.

Widow hums in a manner that is not at all suspicious.

"Oh, yeah, then we're gonna have a double battle, go a few rounds," she says. "Build some team spirit, y'know?"

Miyano flips up her faceplate, her expression making it very clear that no, she did _not_ know, thank you very much. Her gaze flicks quickly between Shinichi to Toyama and back again. "Against the two of you?"

Shinichi gets a distinct premonition of impending doom right before Widow says: "No, against the two of _you_."

A beat of silence.

"What," Shinichi says flatly.

"You _traitor,_ " Miyano hisses at the same time, looking betrayed. "I assume you just conveniently forgot to mention that part earlier?"

"Wouldn't be the first time it happened to ya, would it?" Toyama grins, blatantly cheerful, and strides over towards Shinichi. "Now, don't go easy on me, Cap. Can't have ya losing this round, now can we?"

.

They've moved from knives (familiar) to guns (still mostly familiar, do they think he's a medieval knight or something) to grenade launchers ("I'm _kidding_ , Cap, I wouldn't fire that in here") to _all the other fun stuff_ (Toyama's words, not his) when he slips up.

He's raising the shield to fend off a pair of wicked-looking batons when a tiny metal disk lands on his arm with a _zzaaaaap_ and Shinichi's already flinching, instinctive, bracing himself for a shock that –

– doesn't come.

He chances a look around the shield to see Widow smirking back at him, the bracelets that he vaguely remembers from the Chitauri attack sparking blue on her wrists. "Next one won't be a dud, Cap. I _did_ warn ya about holding back."

"Oh yeah?" Shinichi grins back something fierce, adrenaline buzzing in his ears. "You wanna go, Widow?"

And Toyama launches herself into the air like she's got springs for legs, delivers a solid two-footed kick on the shield that actually pushes him back a step, and sticks the landing without a hair out of place. "Sorry, did ya say something, Kudo-kun?"

( _"FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT,"_ Hawkeye hollers gleefully from across the room.

"Shut up before I _laser_ you," Miyano hisses.)


	5. interlude three

_Why did the falcon cross the road? Aliens, probably. Or he forgot his wings._

(look, it _happens_ , okay)

* * *

 **#3:**  
 **how to get punk'd**

The thing of the moment – possibly the month, Shinichi hasn't been keeping track – is giving out wildly contradictory and varyingly plausible accounts of how Widow met the Winter Soldier.

Case in point: they're just hanging around in one of the actual living rooms in the Tower (as opposed to labs or lab-adjunct spaces), minding their own respective businesses, when Hakuba asks "So I heard from Kuroba-kun that you actually met Ran-san before this, Kazuha-chan?" apropos of nothing.

(Knowing the relationship – or rather, notable lack thereof – between those two, Shinichi's fairly certain "heard" is probably an overly generous term for whatever actually happened.

Also, he's suddenly and inordinately glad that Falcon is off running some emergency drills with the JSDF. Wherever this conversation is headed, no day is worth ruining with accidental Hulking just because Hattori decided to punch Hakuba for being overly... solicitous, or whatever this was.)

"Hm? Oh, yeah." Kazuha doesn't bother uncurling herself from her weird human pretzel shape on the couch, probably intended to make the gods of ballet weep. "It was at a super-assassin thrift store, we both grabbed the same set of clothes."

"A _thr–_ "

Kazuha blatantly steamrollers over the interruption and into a human Gordian knot. "Ya know how it is, impossible to find good clothes to murder people in these days..."

Ran looks up from where she's sharpening her favourite pair of throwing knives. "Pockets," she intones, gravely.

"Exactly!" Kazuha nods vehemently, mostly upside-down by this point. "It's like some kind of conspiracy, I swear – jeez, what's a girl gotta do to get a hem wide enough to hide a garrotte wire in – "

(Shinichi has to leave the room before Hakuba sees him laughing.)


	6. interlude four

_There are two kinds of people in the world: those who can wake up at six, and those who find it easier to just stay up all night._

(or, the side benefits of a metal arm)

* * *

 **#4:**  
 **how to start your day right**

Heiji wakes up to the sight of the Winter Soldier making breakfast in his kitchen, every move eerily silent.

He tries – and fails, probably – to shuffle over just as quietly to the counter, where Kudo is valiantly trying (and _definitely_ failing) not to fall asleep in his coffee.

(Not that Heiji can blame him, honestly, he's fairly certain that Kudo has been running on fumes and adrenaline and – oh, don't forget – weirdass supersoldier biology for the past month.)

"Oi, Kudo," Heiji whispers, and pokes him a few times for good measure.

"Mrhnlgh," says the icon of Truth, Justice, and the Nocturnal Way, face mashed firmly into his sleeve.

Which is patently unfair. Heiji wants coffee, but he also wants to _not_ venture into the unknown-possibly-hostile zone that is currently his kitchen. It's too early for murder, even for him. "She always been like that?"

"Who, Ran?" Kudo deigns to look up for a bit, as if it isn't already clear who he's referring to – although, okay, Kazuha's a spook these days so one never really knows. "Yeah, she likes cooking. Knife thing's a bit new though. And the hand."

...right.

Heiji briefly contemplates internalising the concept of the world's deadliest assassin doing some teppanyaki-style knife show with one hand while flipping pancakes barehanded with the other.

Benefits of a mostly heat-resistant hand, he supposes.

Also, Heiji really hopes those knives haven't stabbed anyone. They definitely _aren't_ from his kitchen, and he doesn't think those poor fruits have done anything to deserve that treatment.

He's jerked out of his reverie (and fine, maybe he _Is_ a bit more tired than he thought) by a metal hand plonking down first a mug of coffee, then a bowl of the aforementioned fruits.

The Winter Soldier stares back at him unblinkingly, and speaks in a near-monotone. "Breakfast will be ready in five minutes, Hattori-kun."

Heiji nods, slowly, and takes a wedge of apple from the bowl.

This appears to satisfy her, since she transfers the stare of impending doom to Kudo, who only mumbles "but _Raaan_ " in a pouty sort of voice.

The stare ( _100% death guaranteed or your money back!_ Heiji can't help but think, trying to chew on his apple as quietly as possible) gains an edge of a frown, before –

"Eat your damn fruits, Shinichi," says Mouri Ran, and wow Heiji definitely can see the whole Kudo's-childhood-friend-maybe-girlfriend thing now. "Or I'll paint your shield hot pink. _With glitter stars._ "

Kudo makes a strangled noise of alarm at that and reaches – or flails, more like – for the fruit bowl, while Heiji thinks about how this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

As long as Kazuha doesn't get to her first, that is.


	7. interlude five

_We interrupt your regularly-scheduled programming to bring you –_

(or: an alternative history)

.

[fair warning: short but serious, for once]

* * *

 **#5:**  
 **oh, how the tables turn**

The posters call her Lady Liberty.

The Howling Commandos call her Cap, whatever noises the Army still makes about her rank being purely decorative (even though she'd surely earned it thrice over by now), although Morita sometimes says _Nakamori-san_ when they're on a rare shore leave. It's nice, to hear something familiar, so Aoko doesn't mind.

Then there's Kaito, who calls her Aoko when they're off-duty and Ahoko when he's trying his damnedest to pretend that they're the same kids they were before going to war.

(That last part, Aoko minds, but Kaito hadn't let her in after his father died and he certainly isn't going to now.)

.

And then, of course, no one calls her anything anymore, because the dead do not speak and Aoko is seventy years too late to hear them anyway.

"He's a ghost story, Nakamori-san," Akako had said at the hospital, after Aoko crashed through a dozen stories of the Triskelion with ice in her bones and tears in her eyes, and later she will look back and wonder if she'd ever stopped falling, on the way.

.

Aoko's been in a lot of fights: against the same illness that took her mother, against bullies thrice her size, against a hallway full of enemy operatives armed with nothing but the contents of a broom closet.

Aoko _knows_ how to fight, knows it like breathing, and yet –

"Who the hell is Kaito?" says a man with the face of her best friend, with the voice that she still hears screaming in her dreams, and Aoko thinks: _anything, anything but this._

The shield doesn't fall from her numb fingers, but it's close.

.

( _A phantom,_ Widow had said, her hair burning bright red like a beacon in the dark, but neither of them had expected this shadow to haunt her so.

Because she had been right: the Winter Soldier is Aoko's very own ghost story, but perhaps Kuroba Kaito is _his_. Perhaps both of them are ghosts, now.

Aoko lets go, and the shield tumbles, falls – )


	8. interlude six

_Fashion is in the eye of the beholder._

(or, the importance of an impartiality clause)

* * *

 **#6:**  
 **how to blend in**

"It's cute how you two consider these as _disguises,_ " Kazuha says almost fondly, patting Shinichi's hair (fine, he'd done a bad job of hiding the cowlick) before snapping a photo to show him.

Which – okay, he'd picked the fake glasses on a whim, but Shinichi also quite likes them, actually. And he happens to think that he looks pretty good in them too, so this all seems rather uncalled for.

(Also, he's seen the Black Widow, internationally-renowned spy, sound just as fond about good food and particularly cute animal videos. It falls under the category of information he doesn't quite know what to do with.)

"Well, yeah, the outfit's not too bad overall, you can't go wrong with a vintage look," Widow adds, further confirming the conspiracy theory of her mind-reading powers. " _Except_ when you're supposed to be blending in with the crowd. Not bad for your first try, though, Cap. Now _Falcon_ here, on the other hand..."

Shinichi tunes out the ensuing tirade about camo print _not_ counting as a diguise, _Heiji,_ literally _no one_ but you wears _camo_ with everything – which is why he notices the familiar figure in the crowd first.

Hattori looks over distractedly when Shinichi waves. "Oh, hey, isn't that the Nakamori neech-"

He can literally _see_ the moment when Hattori realises his fatal error. It's entertaining.

Ran walks over to them while Hattori's still trying to process having mistaken 'scary assassin' for 'considerably less scary science assistant'.

(It's the first time he's seen her in one of these modern dresses, Shinichi registers automatically, not to mention the heels. Hattori's right, though, the outfit looks like it could've come right out of Aoko's wardrobe.

Which he supposes is the point. Between the dress and the heels, Ran looks like an entirely different person, though Shinichi's fairly certain she could still fight perfectly well if she needed to.)

"Watch and learn, boys," says Kazuha, sounding almost gleeful, "now _this_ is what I call a proper disguise."

"Hi!" Ran smiles at them, a little tentatively. She's holding herself differently, too – Shinichi chalks it up to the lack of combat boots. "Is Kazuha-chan giving you two a hard time?"

"The _worst_ ," Hattori deadpans beside him. "Help me out here, neechan, Kazuha won't believe that people were wearing camo print in the 1940s – "

"We weren't," chorus Shinichi and Ran in unison.

A beat of silence.

"I like your dress," he blurts out over the sound of Hattori's mutter ("it's _really_ creepy when they do that, ya know"), but Ran doesn't get to reply before Kazuha's pulling her away.

"No bribing the judges, Kudo-kun!" she calls over her shoulder. "Me and Ran-chan here are gonna enjoy some coffee while you two try to put together something that we can't spot in five seconds!"

"This," Hattori grouses once Kazuha's out of earshot, "is like the _worst_ game of hide-and-seek. _Ever._ "

(His phone pings with two texts from her, in quick succession.

 _at least you have a chance of winning this one, heiji!_ says the first one.

 _i mean, like... maybe...? idk_ says the second.

Hattori's entire expression settles into lines of grim determination as he reads, and Shinichi doesn't even get a chance to protest before he's being dragged along in his wake. "Time ta go shoppin', Kudo. I'm gonna make Kazuha _eat her words_ for lunch, just ya wait.")


	9. interlude seven

_You can't fight **everyone**._

(or, the civil wars of salt.)

* * *

 **#7:**  
 **how the west was won**

"They're not _Accords,_ " Shinichi says scathingly, "if we don't all agree to them, Miyano."

She crosses her arms. "I didn't say anything because I knew this would happen! This is for everyone's sake, including our own – "

"No, this is you trying to run from responsi–"

They both don't jump at the sound of someone slamming their hands on the table. Almost.

"We," Hattori enunciates carefully into the sudden and absolute silence, "are _not_ doing this. We go down this road, and it all ends with the two of you killing each other in a bunker. In Siberia."

That's... oddly specific, Shinichi thinks.

Everyone's staring at Hattori in surprise except Kazuha, who merely looks thoughtful.

(And Koizumi, who looks... intrigued? Although Shinichi's going to pretend he didn't see that, because the implications of the Scarlet Witch being interested are just – no. He is _not_ dealing with that.)

It's also Kazuha who breaks the silence, unsurprisingly enough. "Heiji's right, we can't afford to be divided on this."

"Because you're always on his side, Toyama-san?" Miyano asks, tone acidic.

"Not on this one," Kazuha says blithely, ignoring Hattori's sudden expression of alarm. "But we still have some bargaining power, as a group. So either we all get on board with this and save what we can, or prepare to exist in defiance of the law in three days' time."

And the hell of it is, Shinichi knows logically that she's probably right, but he doesn't want to back down on this.

And _then_ he suddenly remembers all the other times when Hattori's given him _oddly specific_ warnings. Shinichi doesn't know how they'd end up in a bunker in _Siberia_ of all places, but.

 _Dammit,_ Shinichi thinks viciously, sitting back down at the table before pulling the Accords towards him like so much firewood and opening it to the first page.

(Of all the times to be thankful for those lessons Kisaki-san kept insisting on for him, Shinichi thinks with a sigh.)

And now everyone's turning to stare at _him_ instead. Great.

It lasts about as long as it takes for him to neatly tear out the fifth page he reads.

"What – " Miyano begins over the sudden hubbub of noise.

"Third option. These," Shinichi says, voice flat, adding another newly-liberated page to the stack, "are the parts I can agree with. I figure it's more efficient than ripping out all the parts that I _don't_."

"You don't get to pick and choose the law, Kudo-kun," she retorts, just as pointedly. "That's not how it – "

"Bunker in Siberia," interrupts Hattori very pointedly. "Very bad. Must avoid. No one's leaving until this gets sorted, we can order food in or something."

Miyano looks from him to Shinichi and back again, then sits down with an exasperated noise. "I have actual kitchens in this building staffed by culinary-trained robots, we're not doing this over _pizza_. And for the record, I still think that this is a bad idea."

 _Still not as bad as the Accords,_ Shinichi just about stops himself from saying, and turns the page instead.

It's going to be a long, long day.


	10. interlude eight

_Kids these days, amirite?_

(or, better late than never)

* * *

 **#8:**  
 **how to ok google**

Shinichi pulls out his phone and pokes gently at the screen. "Excuse me, Google-san, can you – "

"The heck, Kudo," Heiji blurts. "You know that Google's a search engine, right, not an actual person?"

"You'll hurt Google-sensei's feelings talking like that, Hattori-kun," Ran says, reprovingly.

"You're hurting _my_ feelings with this, Kudo-kun," Shiho says as she strides past, a box of circuit boards under one arm. "I make you a superstrength-proof phone with a custom AI, but you're still using that stock nonsense?"

"Trapping Agasa-hakase in a small box like that is cruel even for you, Miyano," Shinichi replies sagely. "Did you consider _his_ feelings?"

"Oh my _god,_ " says Heiji in despair.

.

("...they know, right," Kaito mumbles around the screwdriver he's holding between his teeth.

"They had pranks in the 1940s, Kaito, ya didn't invent them for the modern age," Kazuha says. "And ya better put that circuit board back real quick, or Shiho-chan's gonna realise that you're the one who's been makin' all the appliances play the Sherlock theme every time Hakuba's near."

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about, and I don't know how they can get along anyway." Kaito plugs in the soldering iron and turns it on. "Can you get me the coffee machine?")


	11. superhero confidential, part one

_NOTE: this stands somewhat separately from previous chapters (enough that I'd usually post it as a separate fic) and references the events of interlude seven. on a related note, I highly suggest following this story on AO3 instead if you have an account there – it's better formatted, both because I don't have to post everything to the same fic, and because FFN still persists in eating every HTML tag ever._

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 **A rose, by any other name**  
 _Eighteen hours with some of our mightiest heroes_

THE FIRST MEMBER OF the Avengers I speak to is Toyama Kazuha, better known as the Black Widow.

"I don't know if we're still really the _Avengers_ , officially, what with the Accords being up in the air and all," Toyama-san says thoughtfully as she helps me through the many non-disclosure agreements and liability waivers required for this interview. "This here's the last one, I swear – it's just in case, so much weird stuff happens when both Heiji and Shinichi-kun are around that our insurance stopped covering it."

If there's a way to respond to that statement, I don't know it.

"Like, alien weird, but also _normal_ weird." She shakes her head as she files the papers away in their respective folders. "Trust me, you don't want ta know."

I do, actually – what could possibly constitute 'weird' around this group of people? – but she hurries me out of the room, and off to meet the rest of the maybe-not-officially-Avengers.

* * *

LIKE MOST CELEBRITIES, POLITICIANS, and other public figures, the basic facts of the various Avengers' lives are common knowledge, though some more by force than by choice.

Toyama-san, for example, has not been shy about acknowledging her roots, ever since her identity was fully confirmed in her massive online leak of SHIELD data. Fans and martial arts enthusiasts alike often frequent local dojos in hopes of seeing her drop by to give impromptu lessons on practical fighting for self-defence.

Her fellow Osakan – Hattori Heiji, aka the Falcon – has been much more vocal about promoting his hometown. It's often joked that he skywrites tourism advertisements on his days off, but meeting him in person actually lends plausibility to this notion.

The duo make up half of the current four-man team, at least on paper.

"Budget cuts, y'know, we're runnin' on a skeleton crew," Hattori-san says laconically when he meets us at the door of the conference room we're using. "Can't be helped."

"You either want us to play nice with the Accords committee or you don't, Hattori, stop complaining. And for the record, I am so blaming you if a skeleton horde actually appears later."

That's said by Kudo Shinichi, whose story – contradictory versions of it, even – has been chronicled in every historical account of the WWII period and the past decade. He has famously refused to comment on the details of his past, except to (just as famously) confirm that he has never held any form of American citizenship, nor does he have any plans to.

The last member of the quartet arrives two minutes later, trailed by a robot bearing a sizeable tray.

"Now that you've jinxed it, Kudo-kun, I'll make sure to update the emergency protocols accordingly." Miyano Shiho, formerly known as CEO of Miyano Industries but now as the Iron Lady, steps aside for the robot to roll up to us and place its tray on the table.

Toyama-san promptly ditches me to get a better look at what turns out to be an assortment of snacks. "Ooh, the good stuff! You're the best robot overlord, Shiho-chan."

"Yes, well." Miyano-san produces a holographic display out of nowhere and taps it deftly several times (raising the question of whether the Avengers Tower does, indeed, have contingencies for skeleton invasions) before dismissing it with a wave. "I do have Kudo-kun's metabolism thoroughly documented, though serum effects certainly don't account for Hattori-kun's appetite."

" _Nothing_ accounts for his appetite," says Kudo-san in chorus with Toyama-san.

"It's the only 'enhanced' thing about Heiji, really," the latter adds. "Don't think that was what the Accords meant, though."

Hattori-san doesn't even try to deny either part, though he does look a little abashed when he turns to me. "Anyway – since we're all here, do you want ta start with your first question?"

Watching them interact like this – that is to say, without any active threat to our continued existence – is engaging enough in itself, but I gladly take the opportunity to broach the topic that's already been mentioned three times: the Sokovia Accords.

As often happens in cases where the evidence mostly amounts to opaquely-worded press releases and supposedly credible inside sources, speculation about the Accords has run rampant, drawing conspiracy theorists out of the global woodwork. In this case, though, the truth seems rather more mundane than fiction, if more convoluted at turns.

For starters, they're now known as the United Peace Accords, dropping all references to the Sokovia disaster and other past incidents.

"We wanted a name that reflected the actual goal of this agreement – or _our_ goals, at least," Kudo-san explains with a slight frown. "Not something seemingly guaranteed to incite reaction with everyone involved."

Does the change reflect a similarly major shift in the Accords' content?

This gets several wry smiles around the table.

"There was a little... difference in opinion, let's just say," ventures Toyama-san, to a badly-concealed snort from Hattori-san.

"Suffice to say, some parts of the regulations were more controversial than others." It's Miyano-san who takes up the narrative – perhaps surprisingly, for those who have heard rumours of her staunch support for the Accords. "Which our two – _gentlemen_ – here took upon themselves to bend and break entirely, until they uncovered a plot to attack the UN ratification summit in Vienna. Fortunately, this gave us enough leverage to push for major changes to the Accords, and a much longer grace period."

"Kudo and I are _really_ good detectives, what can I say." Hattori-san grins fiercely. "Just as well, too, the nonsense they were proposing wasn't ever gonna work with us. They're actually letting us talk about this now?"

"Within reasonable bounds, yes." Miyano-san shrugs. "Nothing specific, and nothing that might interfere with the ongoing investigation. I believe they've realised the extent to which no press is, in fact, bad press."

"Took quite a lot of diplomacy to do it, though, which is why _you_ weren't invited," Toyama-san quips. It's intriguing to watch her expression flip from the neutral one that's made her the public face of the Avengers to pulling a face at Hattori-san and back again.

It's also a much-needed reminder that superheroes don't stop being people, even when they're on the job.

Kudo-san rolls his eyes at their antics and looks over at me. "And they call this a team. Next question?"

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	12. superhero confidential, part two

_NOTE: continues directly from previous chapter – read that one first if you haven't already (and again, better formatting on AO3 if you'd like to hop over there). last part to happen whenever it does, and happy new year in advance if I don't see you before then!_

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WE'RE NEARLY THREE HOURS INTO what is proving to be a very enlightening interview when another holographic screen pops up with a muted _ping_.

Miyano-san barely spares it a glance before standing up and striding around the table to the door. "Your new wings are done, Hattori-kun, I need to do the flight test."

"Huh?" Hattori-san looks up in apparent surprise, even though I'm certain that this moment has been planned all along.

"I'm going to tell the fabrication bots to paint them red and gold if you're not at the lab in fifteen," comes the reply from the hallway.

One exclamation of extreme dismay later, and we're left with the three of us and a suddenly-awkward silence in the room. I take the chance to swap out my voice recorder's batteries – I have the feeling that I'm going to need them, for whatever's coming up next.

When I look back up again, the two remaining Avengers are apparently having a silent but slightly heated discussion by looks and the occasional shrug.

It's Toyama-san who looks away first, while Kudo-san takes a deep breath, as if he's bracing himself for something. "You know who Ran is, right? Mouri Ran."

It's almost a ridiculous question, in this context.

Among most of the younger generation, the first thing that comes to mind about the good Captain's second-in-command is not the utter scandal (at the time, at least) of her having been revealed to be a woman all along, while the dust of WWII was still busy settling down.

Or perhaps it still is, just in a different sense – her story has morphed into a second Mulan of sorts, a fierce fighter who'd taken up arms to stand beside her childhood friend on the other end of a war. Girls grew up wanting to be that brave, to be just like her, never mind the staggeringly complex politics of the situation.

So to answer the question: yes, I know who Mouri Ran is.

This much is evident, because Kudo-san continues on a surprising turn. "What about the Winter Soldier?"

Now this question, unlike the last, is rather more complicated.

This much is known: somewhere between the events spanning the attack on SHIELD director Yamato Kansuke and the smoking ruins of that same agency in the Sumida River, the Winter Soldier went from an unlikely ghost story to a too-real spectre of death.

Eyewitness reports agree on the salient details: a woman of slender build, metal arm, and long hair. Filling the blanks of history with the SHIELD files gives us the rest: a list of kills confirmed or suspected, stretching back an improbable number of decades.

But that is all we have – facts that sketch the outline of a person, and nothing that fills that gap. We know increasingly more of what the Winter Soldier is, but nothing about who she is.

Not just yet, at least.

I say as much to Kudo-san, who nods, then hesitates for the first time in our time so far. "That was the first time I met the Soldier, yes. But the truth is – "

His voice falters and stops.

"It's alright, Shinichi, I can speak for myself," says a soft voice from the door, and I turn to see Mouri Ran standing there, metal arm and long hair gleaming dully in the low light.

* * *

THERE IS NO EASY OR KIND WAY to say this: Mouri Ran, one of the heroes of WWII, has also been the Winter Soldier in the intervening decades since.

None of it was by her will, as both Cap and Widow make certain to emphasise to me several times afterwards.

(There is also no mistaking that the two are acting as something larger than their usual selves, in this matter. They are each the quiet to the other's fire, and it is not at all difficult to see the same people who stared down both the Cabinet and National Diet – and, by all accounts, 117 of the UN's 193 countries – and willed them to blink first.)

At the time of this interview, the wheels of judicial systems both domestic and international have already begun to turn. Japan abolished its statute of limitations on murder in late April of 2010, meaning that cases dating from 1995 and onwards are still up for prosecution, and the possibility of extradition is still not entirely off the table yet.

But any and all trials will be strictly closed to the public, at least until the final verdict is released, and Mouri-san will be accorded all considerations due her status as a prisoner of war under extreme duress.

"I made it a non-negotiable condition of accepting the Accords," Kudo-san explains, in a brusque summary of what must have been an uphill fight against the many parties involved. "If we're going to sign over any part of our rights as enhanced individuals, we also need to recognise what happens when that power and responsibility falls into the wrong hands."

All this comes later, though. What follows is a short transcript of that initial conversation between myself and Mouri Ran, in what will likely be the first of many accounts of her time as the Winter Soldier and beyond.

* * *

 **HH:** Thank you for taking the time to speak to me today, Mouri-san.

 **MR:** Just call me Ran, please. I'm sorry if this came as a bit of a nasty surprise, we weren't sure how you would react to the news.

 **HH:** It's – honestly speaking? I'm still trying to process it, but I almost can't believe that I'm actually talking to you in person. You've always been one of my heroes.

 **MR:** [ _with a slight smile_ ] If it's any consolation, that's a little weird for me to hear as well. Most of the publicity was focused on Shinichi during the war, no one outside of SSR and the Army really knew who the rest of the Howling Commandos were, but then we ended up here and... [ _she cuts herself off with the wave of one hand_ ] I'm sorry, that's not really what you wanted to talk about, is it?

 **HH:** Well, I think most of us want to know what happened between 1945 and now, but I'd be happy to discuss whatever topic you prefer, Ran-san.

 **MR:** To be frank, I don't really remember all of it – I'm still getting memories back here and there, but most of it's badly scrambled, both in terms of time and place.

 **TK:** Like when you wake up from a long nap and suddenly don't know if it's still the same day, y'know? Except worse.

 **HH:** That must've been very confusing for you, Ran-san.

 **MR:** It was. I had all these notebooks that I wrote things in, I was so afraid of forgetting again. It was really lucky for me that K- I mean, Widow released all those SHIELD files online, otherwise I really would've wondered if I was just going crazy. [ _turns towards Toyama-san_ ] I don't think I've ever thanked you for that, Kazuha-chan.

 **TK:** That's the first time anyone's ever said that to me! [ _chuckles_ ] You're definitely welcome, Ran-chan.

 **MR:** Really, I don't know what I would've done without you. All of you. [ _turns back to me, taking out a piece of paper_ ] It's not entirely complete – my lawyer's instructed me to redact the details until after the trial – but we've been able to piece together the events from then until now. Most of them, at least.

[ _An annotated version of this document has been reproduced on the following page of this article._ ]

 **HH:** I'm a reporter, I understand having more questions than answers. I really appreciate you trusting me with this information, Ran-san.

 **MR:** I don't like talking about it, but – [ _shrugs_ ] Like Shinichi's always saying, there's only one truth, right?

 **KS:** [ _a little tersely_ ] Yeah.

 **MR:** Shinichi? [ _reaching for his hand_ ] I thought we'd agreed on this, people are going to find out after the trial and –

 **KS:** – and you want to do it on your own terms, yeah. It's just... [ _he takes her hand with a sigh_ ] All those years, and I never had a clue.

 **TK:** You were off bein' an ice cube for most of those years, Shinichi-kun, I think you're excused. Don't think even Holmes solved any mysteries while he was dead.

 **KS:** Well, actually –

[ _All three of them laugh at some apparently shared joke, breaking the tension in the atmosphere._ ]

 **MR:** You found me in the end, that's what matters. [ _glances over at me, still smiling_ ] These parts I definitely remember – this tiny scrap of a detective picking fights everywhere, trying to solve every mystery in town. Even though he was sick most of the time. Like having the worst younger brother you've never wanted, I swear.

 **HH:** [ _laughs_ ] Oh, I can definitely relate to that, I know the type.

 **MR:** Right?

 **HH:** Yeah. To wrap this up, then – is there anything you want to say to the readers?

 **MR:** Just... I'd like to apologise to everyone I've hurt by my actions, both directly or otherwise. I know it won't fix anything, and I understand if you never accept this apology, but – [ _she bows_ ] I'm very sorry, and I'll do everything in my power to make up for it.

 **HH:** And what would you like to do after this? Anything specific?

 **MR:** Well, there's the trial first, of course. Who knows how long that'll take. After that – I really have no idea, actually. Kazuha-chan's invited me to go crash dojos –

 **TK:** Hey now, I don't _crash_ things, that's Heiji you're thinking of –

 **MR:** – with her anytime, but I've been thinking about travelling a bit with Shinichi and everyone else? See places when they're not halfway being blown up, catch up on the things I've missed.

 **HH:** Wherever the wind takes you, then?

 **MR:** [ _smiles and nods_ ] Yeah, just like that. I think I've had enough of plans for a while, you know?

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	13. superhero confidential, part three

_NOTE: again, continues directly from the previous two chapters so read those if you haven't already. a belated crosspost from AO3, and condensed into one chapter from the original three just for the sake of easier formatting... so y'all get an upsized chapter instead, heh. this is why I don't write long(ish) fics, folks. enjoy!_

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 **PAGE 3 OF 3**

TOYAMA-SAN FETCHES US SOME much-needed coffee and cookies after that talk.

The cookies are amazing. I have a sudden and unbidden mental image of an Avengers recruitment poster: Join Us, We Have Cookies!

Kudo-san tells me, with obvious pride, that the cookies were made by Ran-san last night.

"I bake when I can't sleep. Or when I'm stressed. Keeps better than cooking," she explains, with careful but growing enthusiasm. "There's so many new kinds of food available now, plus all the appliances! And – uh, a metal arm's really convenient for handling hot trays, it turns out."

"And turning takoyaki!" Toyama-san adds with glee. "Heiji's super jealous of that, trust me. Coulda knocked him over with a feather when ya first pulled that stunt."

Such is the mundane utility of enhanced abilities, I suppose. I reach for another cookie – with chocolate and almonds, this time, although it tastes like there's some coffee mixed in there as well. "Have you ever considered opening a bakery, Ran-san?"

"I haven't, no," Ran-san says thoughtfully, nibbling on an oatmeal raisin.

"Ya could sell them through the coffeeshop at the lobby," suggests Toyama-san, stirring sugar into her latter. "Donate the proceeds to charity, if you like."

Which brings me back to the yet unexplained mystery of where Toyama-san obtained our drinks in such short order, since she was hardly gone long enough to leave the floor we're on, let alone stop by any coffeeshop.

Toyama-san catches me looking, and gestures at the ceiling. "Ya know how they say the walls have ears? Actually true in this building – well, more than it usually is."

I wisely decide not to enquire on this thread any further. "So, what now? I assume you have something planned."

"You'd be correct, actually," answers Kudo-san instead. "Do you know how to fight, by any chance?"

"Well, my father taught me some basic hand-to-hand, that kind of thing," I hedge, hoping that I'm not about to be asked to participate in some spar against any of the Avengers.

Toyama-san appears to guess at my concern accurately, because she laughs. "Oh, don't worry about it! It's just that Heiji should be about done with the first round of tests by now, and we've got something interesting scheduled for the next. You'll see."

* * *

WHAT I SEE TURNS OUT TO BE THIS: the last few minutes of the flight test starring Falcon and Iron Lady, though at this point I'm fairly certain it's devolved somewhat from organised trials to Hattori-san just doing his level best to push the limits of his new wingpack.

I have absolutely no complaints, though.

Anyone who's ever watched any footage of the Avengers' fights – and who hasn't, really? – can probably attest to how oddly graceful it can be, like a particularly well-choreographed sequence. This is no different.

Even standing behind several inches of bulletproof glass (repulsor blasts and a vibranium shield are rather more challenging to defend against, Miyano-san informs me later), you can almost feel the downwash of Falcon's wings as he loops and rolls through the air in the world's most technologically advanced game of dodge.

I'm almost disappointed when Miyano-san calls a stop to the exercise, until I realise she's coming down to hover just past the window of the observation deck, still fully suited up.

Her voice comes over the speakers without so much as a crackle, though it sounds oddly computerised. "Ready to go, Cap? Or do you need a warm-up round?"

"Hey!" retorts Kudo-san without much heat. "I _am_ old, okay, you should respect your elders."

"You must be confusing yourself with Agasa-hakase again," she harrumphs before firing up her suit again. "Fine then, you get fifteen minutes, I need to adjust the yaw control on Falcon's suit anyway."

Kudo-san glances over at the others as she flies away again. "Guys?"

Ran-san's already nodding – I get the feeling that she's the only one on this team who might insist on proper exercise procedures.

"Nah, I'll pass. I need ta go talk Shiho-chan into spraypainting those wings, y'know?" Toyama-san waves one hand nonchalantly, though she turns to me with a wink and a singsong tone before leaving. "You're in for a treat, believe me."

I'm wondering, idly, if I'll ever stop feeling more than a little confused around here when I realise that Ran-san's already out on the bare training grounds with Kudo-san.

If the previous exercise was breathtaking, this one is entirely indescribable.

It probably shouldn't be surprising that two supersoldiers' idea of a quick warm up pretty much amounts to a full workout for most of us regular (or fitter-than-average, even) people, but it is. You're quite abruptly reminded that these two were soldiers who served in the frontline of one of our biggest wars, quite aside from representing some of the pinnacles of bioengineering, even if one was via a near-magical serum and the other was more of a hackjob. Not-so-scientifically speaking.

Their spar is quick and fluid, yet there remains a definite force behind every move. I'm no expert in fighting – though I'm beginning to see why Kudo-san asked me about it earlier – but I genuinely don't think they're pulling any punches, except maybe the critical ones.

And with good reason. A full account of Kudo-san's injuries directly following the fall of the helicarriers has still yet to be made public, but anonymous interviews with his medical team have reportedly suggested that they were severe enough to warrant brief but legitimate concerns, even considering his enhanced physiology. The Winter Soldier is likely one of perhaps three who can take on the Captain in a fair fight and maybe win – of the other two, the Hulk is still MIA, and Thor firmly back on Asgard until the Accords are finally resolved.

But looking at them now, there is every ounce of raw skill and power in evidence, yet none of the sheer violence of that fight. Even as I watch, Ran-san manages to get her opponent into a headlock, but Kudo-san only raises his hands in surrender with a laugh, which gets a smile and what looks like a mild admonishment in return.

It's only when a second recess is called that I finally put my finger on what looks so different about this scene: the infamous shield is nowhere in sight. The pair is fighting barehanded, insofar as that term applies when one of the participants has a metal arm.

"Kudo's terrible about droppin' his defence when he doesn't have the shield," explains Hattori-san as he comes back into the room and makes a beeline for what I'm realising must be the Avengers' gym lockers. "Not so's that anyone would usually notice, but we're all about trying to fix things now. Could make a crucial difference in some fight."

Then motion out the corner of my eye catches my attention. I turn back to the window to see Iron Lady swooping back into the room with the Black Widow clinging onto her back while laughing, which turns into her leaping off with a shriek when Falcon descends upon them like the eponymous bird of prey.

"I'm callin' Heiji and Ran-chan!" Widow shouts as she rolls into a landing straight out of parkour.

" _Again?_ " come two exclamations of apparent dismay.

"It's tradition!" she calls in response as Falcon tosses Cap his shield while a small army of robots roll into the field, and it all descends into chaos from there.

* * *

AS THE AVENGERS TAKE TURNS TO explain afterwards, the last part of what I saw earlier is the latest in their attempts to figure out ways to minimise the collateral damage when they fight.

In this case, it's very much a simulated scenario: Cap and Iron Lady against the remaining three acting as invading hostiles, with the mass of robots standing in for any surrounding civilians.

"It's not the most realistic of situations, of course," says Miyano-san, her expression tight, as she calls up a bank of screens – non-holographic, this time – that show playbacks of their practice fight from various angles. "But we can't level a city every time we do this, and the robots are calibrated to register the equivalent level of damage an average human would sustain."

They spend nearly a full hour picking over the footage and working out ways to cover any gaps. Ran-san remains mostly quiet during this process, which I chalk up to her not actively being in the field as an Avenger, although she does offer suggestions at several points.

Despite their frequent barbs at each other, Miyano-san and Kudo-san actually work surprisingly well together both on and off the battlefield – the playback shows only the rare attack from the other three making it through even with their combined efforts. But, as I gather from the discussion, they're focusing on the big picture, with the end goal of avoiding another inadvertent disaster the next time they fight.

"It's not gonna be easy. Might not even be possible, with the kind of firepower we need ta take down our usual kind of threats," says Hattori-san with uncharacteristic grimness. "But we can't not try."

The sentiment is obviously echoed by the rest, and the mood is still somber when we finally break for dinner.

Kudo-san and Ran-san decide to stay for a quiet night in, while I go with the others to an udon place nearby.

It's my last hour with the Avengers – or so I think, at least. I can't help wondering what's going to come of it.

* * *

FOLLOWING THE SHIELD DATA LEAK ONLINE, several dedicated dataminers tracked down footage from the past decade – down to shaky handphone video from several major earthquakes – that show the recognisable silhouette of a winged figure swooping down to the literal rescue.

This is, of course, offset by the recent Vine clip of the very same figure rescuing a litter of kittens stuck improbably high up in a tree too withered to climb in an area too densely-packed for a firetruck ladder.

"Not everything is about saving the world, ya know?" was Hattori-san's statement on the viral video when it was brought up at a press conference.

"At least I can say I did it for the Vine," he adds now, when I ask him about it as we're waiting for our noodles.

"And the kittens," says Toyama-san, before dropping to a stage whisper. "He got so attached to them that he cried when we had to give them away."

"Did n– I almost cried. Only _almost,_ " he emphasises.

Toyama-san pats him on the shoulder, commiserating. "Of course. They were very cute kittens."

"With very sharp claws, as well." Miyano-san's words are, perhaps predictably enough, completely unsympathetic – at least, if one forgets about the considerable number of animal shelter fundraisers that Iron Lady has put in appearances at, over many other worthwhile causes. "Perhaps I should start billing you for suit repairs in these events?"

"Or build in a collapsible cat carrier," chimes in Toyama-san.

Hattori-san makes a wounded noise of apparent offense – but fortunately for the tattered shreds of his dignity, our food chooses that moment to arrive.

Which brings us to the next part of the entertainment for this evening.

* * *

WE'RE HALFWAY THROUGH WHAT CLEARLY feels like a oft-repeated spiel from Hattori-kun on the superiority of udon soup in Kansai when someone reaches out to tap on Toyama-san's shoulder.

"Your black jacket's on the back of my couch," she says without looking up from her noodles, as I do a double-take at the newcomer's uncanny resemblance to one Kudo Shinichi.

Not-Kudo-san – who I'm belatedly realising must be Kuroba Kaito, codename Hawkeye, designated archer of the original group of Avengers – pulls a face. "Darn. I was wondering where I'd left it. And can't you even let me sneak up on you once?"

"Nope!" Toyama-san answers cheerfully, glancing up only to bat her eyelashes at him. "I think not stabbing ya when ya try it is good enough, don't ya think? And stop leavin' your clothes at my place, jeez."

"Well, I can't help that we both wear black, it's confusing!" Kuroba-san waves as if he's just noticed me, although I highly doubt that's the case. "Hi, don't mind me, I'm not Cap – "

" _Not_ what you try to convince half the people we meet of," Miyano-san remarks with a raised eyebrow.

"Ain't my fault if they don't watch the news, y'know." Kuroba-san shrugs, already turning to leave, though he pauses to tug at the bow in Toyama-san's ponytail. "Don't wait up for me, honey!"

She slaps at his hands irritably. "Ya mean I'd better not see _yer_ ugly mug before midnight, Kuroba!"

"I'm not Cinderella!" he retorts over one shoulder. "And I'll tell Kudo that you said his face was ugly!"

"What, so he can agree?" she snipes back.

The sheer and obvious familiarity of this routine makes me flick my gaze over to my other dinner companions quickly with an unspoken question: _are they – ?_

Miyano-san rolls her eyes in response. "No, they're just always like this. Apparently normal methods of communication are too much to ask for, around here."

"Rich of ya of all people to talk, neechan," says Hattori-san. "But yeah, lotsa people who meet them make the same mistake. They're certainly idiot enough to match, anyhow."

" _People,_ ya say?" repeats Toyama-san, with sudden glee.

"Shut _up,_ " mutters Hattori-san in retaliation, visibly reddening even under his dark skin.

My reporter senses pick up a definite story there, but before I can poke around any further there's a sudden scream from outside the restaurant.

There's what seems like a collective sigh across the table, but barely any hesitation to match.

"Go, we'll cover the bill and find ya later," says Toyama-san with a wave, though Hattori-san's already half on his feet before she's finished.

He runs off at a fast clip, catching the attention of other patrons and leaving me to stare at the remaining two at the table with confusion. "What – ?"

"Remember the weird stuff I told ya about this morning?" Toyama-san says with a slight wince. "Yeah, something like that."

It seems that I'm getting an answer to the question I didn't ask, after all.

"We'll head over in ten minutes. People tend to freak out when too many Avengers arrive at the same time, for some reason," Miyano-san adds, voice glacier dry with irony.

"Means there's still time for dessert?" Toyama-san declares hopefully.

* * *

BY THE TIME I ARRIVE alongside the remaining two Avengers, we find Hattori-san deep in conversation with Kudo-san, and officers from Beika's Division One already corralling the gathering crowd at the scene. The portly figure of inspector Megure Juzo is visible behind a cordon of police tape, alongside several of his senior detectives.

"Looks pretty serious," Toyama-san observes in an undertone. It's easy to forget how distinctive the Osakan accent she shares with Hattori-san is until it drops away, leaving her to sound just like any other Tokyo native.

"Double homicide, it seems." Beside me, Miyano-san has her handphone out, and is flicking between screens – SNS feeds and others that pass too quickly for me to catch. "I'll notify the others, you go ahead."

Toyama-san tugs the hood of her dark grey jacket up, and slips into the crowd with barely a nod.

The Avengers do indeed have a protocol for such events, it seems. I probably shouldn't be surprised about any of this – but I am, nevertheless.

Miyano-san finishes tapping out one last message on her phone and looks up, eyes narrowing as she glances around. I wonder what she sees.

I wonder what each of them see, really.

More than any other of today's encounters (planned or unplanned) this last incident is what firmly brings home the reality of the people behind the heroes. That they chose the lives they lead now has made as much of a difference to us as to them, and it is a decision deserving of credit where it is due, much as that seems to be forgotten of late.

* * *

IT'S JUST OVER TWO HOURS LATER when the case gets resolved. I stay with Miyano-san on the periphery of the crowd for the most of it, having declined her offer to have someone bring my car around from the Tower. There's a dicey moment when the final suspect tries to make a run for it, but a swift cement-breaking kick of a trashcan lid right into his path quickly dissuades that notion.

Toyama-san reappears from seemingly nowhere soon after, the two apparent detectives following along in her wake. The intent seriousness from earlier has dissipated, leaving what could've just as easily been a group of old friends out for a late-night outing in the hubbub of Tokyo.

Kudo-san, I learn, had literally just stepped out from the Tower to buy a pint of ice-cream.

"It's statistically improbable, yeah, running into a murder on your grocery run," he agrees, wincing, as we wait for our respective elevators.

Hattori-san loops a friendly arm around his shoulder. "No one introduce ya to online shopping yet, Kudo? Delivers right to yer doorstep."

"Looks who's calling the kettle black," Kudo-san mutters with a snort. "At least it wasn't another alien incident this time."

"Or an actual skeleton horde, of course," says Hattori-san.

There's a collective groan from all the assembled Avengers.

"Catnip. _In your suit lining,_ " I hear Miyano-san warn in a distinctly menacing voice, followed by Toyama-san's "I'll take the video!" in jarringly cheerful tones.

Hattori-san gulps nervously just as the elevator door closes.

It's a memorable end to my day with the Avengers, all told.

* * *

MY ORIGINAL AGREEMENT WITH THE AVENGERS was for eight hours, which stretched to an unexpected ten. I'd left with my recorder and notes, article already writing itself in my head, and hadn't expected to see them again.

So imagine my surprise when I'm greeted one morning not long after by none other than Ooka Momiji, former assistant to Miyano Shiho and current CEO of Miyano Industries, standing at my apartment door.

"Good morning," she says with a smile. "May I come in?"

I nod, a little dumbly, and step aside to let her in.

"We're both busy women, I know, so I'll endeavour to be quick." Ooka-san's manner is brisk, despite the distinctly old-fashioned Kyoto accent. "On behalf of Ran-san and the rest of the Avengers, I am extending a formal request for you to attend her trial."

"Me?" I ask, in a miraculously even voice. "I thought it was a closed trial?"

"To the general public, yes, but I believe we can agree that you do not fall into that category." She extends a manila folder in one manicured hand. "The requisite documents are in here. My legal department will take care of the rest if you are amenable, of course, but to summarise: paper and film camera only, no electronic devices of any sort, and Ran-san reserves the final right to veto anything you intend to publish."

I flip through the folder on automatic. Legal issues and other matters of the court have never been my beat, but a quick scan of the documents within clearly supports Ooka-san's words. "When do I have to decide by?"

"Tomorrow, if at all possible. My number's in there as will, and there's another number to contact if you have any questions." Ooka-san gestures for me to take my work bag, and walks with me to the stairs. "Now, I shan't delay you any longer. Iori can take you to your office, or wherever your destination may be."

 _Iori who?_ I'm about to ask, but that question at least is answered when we reach the ground floor to find a chauffeured silver Mercedes idling outside my block.

I get into the car without much protest – my first assignment of the day is far enough out of town that I'd been concerned about making it on time by the subway – but turn around to find Ooka-san still standing on the sidewalk. "You're not coming?"

She shakes her head, shouldering her purse. "I have something to do for now, I'll send for Iori later. Consider this a token of my appreciation if you will."

"Whatever for?" Puzzlement is a mild word for it – if anything, I should be the one grateful for a chance to report on this story.

"Ran-san is an absolutely sweet person, but the impending trial has put considerable strain on her – understandable, but also quite regrettable," Ooka-san adds. "Meeting you during that interview seems to have alleviated some of that worry, or so Kazuha-chan tells me. You learn to appreciate friends very quickly in this line of work."

Am I a friend of the Avengers now? They certainly never stop surprising me, it seems. "Will you send Ran-san my best wishes, please?"

"But of course." She dips her head in agreement. "And I'll look forward to hearing back from you. Off you go, then."

And with that, we're leaving her in the rearview mirror. I give Iori-san the address I'm headed to, then settle down for a more thorough read of the documents Ooka-san has given to me.

It takes no small amount of looking up legal terms, and several discreet (and very, very vague) calls to the few lawyers among my contacts, but I finally reach a decision just as we arrive.

"Thank you for the ride, Iori-san," I say when he walks around to open my door. "And I'll call her myself later, but can you tell Ooka-san that I'd like to attend the trial?"

"It was no trouble at all," he replies with a bow. "Momiji-sama will be very pleased to hear that news, without a doubt."

Then he's driving off as well, leaving me to stand on the sidewalk and wonder, yet again, what I've gotten myself into.

* * *

AND THAT IS HOW I FIND MYSELF standing outside the Tokyo High Court one cold December morning, press pass looped around my neck.

"Hey, reporter neechan!" comes a shout from behind me, and I turn to see Hattori-san approaching at a quick jog. "Glad ya could make it, they're starting in an hour."

I hurry after him through one of the side entrances, though we have to make an additional stop to deposit the bag with my laptop and handphone at a security post.

Thusly armed with only a notepad, several pens, and a film camera that hasn't seen use for too long, I follow the Falcon down a long hallway towards what must be the trial of the century.

* * *

I WILL SPARE READERS AN ACCOUNT OF the excruciatingly detailed proceedings that are even more unavoidable in a case as momentous as this one.

Suffice to say that real courts are nowhere as exciting as the average television drama would have you believe, especially for the uninitiated observer – between the cross-examination of several expert witnesses and copious mention of precedents, I can readily admit that a lot of the finer details were beyond my grasp. And, in all likelihood, the happenings of this trial will themselves be examined by people much more knowledgeable than myself if and when they are released for public perusal.

My focus falls instead on the people involved. This is the last day of the Winter Soldier trial, as it will come to be known, and the tension in the courtroom is almost palpable.

The Avengers – all the key members this time, not just the official four – take up almost the entire first row of benches by themselves. They present a united front, arrayed as they are with Kudo-san at the centre, flanked by Hattori-san and Toyama-san on either side. The two men lean forward, intent expressions on their faces, and occasionally exchange short conversations in low whispers.

(I'm abruptly reminded that both have been involved in criminal cases before, though this may well be their first time not being on the side of the prosecution.)

Only Miyano-san is conspicuously missing, an absence soon explained when she is called up as a witness for the defense.

The faces in the second row are less familiar, though I can recognise Ooka-san, a few SHIELD ex-agents (including its former deputy director Uehara Yui), Sonoko-san of the Suzuki zaibatsu, and oddly enough, another young woman who bears a strange resemblance to Mouri Ran.

Ran-san herself is seated with the defense counsel, hair tied back in a low ponytail and wearing a dark grey suit that covers all but the hand of her metal arm, which itself is hidden in a skin-coloured glove. If it's an intentional ploy to look as harmless as possible, it's a reasonably successful one.

She looks more calm than almost everyone else in the room, save perhaps the three-judge panel and Toyama-san.

I'm not sure if it's real, or merely a very good front – but either way I know that I can't possibly imagine what Ran-san is feeling right now, being tried for nearly sixty years of crimes that used her very person as a weapon.

I don't think any of us can.

* * *

(WHEN I ASK HER LATER, Ran-san considers the question for a long moment before answering. "I suppose... well, I probably shouldn't be saying this, but I was ready to accept whatever verdict they gave me. Even – especially if it was a guilty one. That's its own kind of calm, I guess."

Here, she pauses, obviously thinking on her next words, and I wait out the silence.

"None of this morally absolves me, I know – I'll carry that weight of what I did with me for however long I live, and I don't think I'll ever be done paying for it." Then she smiles, wan but genuine. "But I'm also glad that they cleared me of all charges. Anything beyond that can wait, at least for a while."

The Avengers and their friends mill around us in a loose cluster – they haven't really left Ran-san's side since the moment the verdict was announced, and I can already hear the distinct chatter of late dinner plans being made.

Standing right beside her, Kudo-san murmurs something in her ear that gets a surprisingly high-pitched laugh out of her, before he turns to me with a loose grin that I've only seen in monochrome videos out of 1944.

Ran-san's smile is more tentative, but I see a new light in her eyes, one I hadn't even known to miss. "Will you join us for dinner, Hondou-san?"

"I would love to, Ran-san, Kudo-san." I stow the writing utensils and camera back inside my newly-reacquired bag – I'm done with being a reporter for the day, too. "And please call me Hidemi. After hours and all that, you know."

"No problem, Hidemi-san," replies Kudo-san. He's about to say something else before we're interrupted by Hattori-san's now-familiar yell above the general din, and Toyama-san waving madly at us from across the room.

"Shall we?" I say, and the two friends out of time curl their arms around each other with matching expressions of something approaching hope, before leading their long way back into the crowd.) ■

 **END**

* * *

 _Hondou Hidemi is an investigative journalist with Nichiuri Shimbun. An alumnus of the Waseda Journalism School, she also contributed to_ When It Floods, _an award-winning series of reports on the fall of SHIELD and its ramifications for intelligence agencies worldwide._


	14. aww, kuroba, no

The call – well, sort of – comes in late one evening when he's at the Tower.

"Shiho-kun asks you to come down to the usual conference room, Shinichi-kun," says Agasa-hakase from the ceiling. "Now, if you are free."

Shinichi's already on his feet and pinning a note for Ran to the door, though the wording doesn't sound like an emergency. "Just me? What's this about?"

"She's also getting in touch with Heiji-kun as we speak. The matter at hand – " he pauses. Shinichi hadn't even known that AIs could hesitate. "It's one of those things better explained in person."

"Very reassuring," Shinichi deadpans, elevator doors opening with a _ding_ as he walks over to them. "Tell her I'm on my way."

 _Sarcasm received and duly noted,_ says the incoming text on his phone as he presses the button for the forty-second floor. _Now hurry up, Hattori-kun's already on the line._

Reassuring, indeed.

* * *

When he gets to the conference room, Miyano is indeed already teleconferencing Hattori, who's sitting at the dining table of his Osaka apartment. Although there really isn't much of a conversation going on, mostly Hattori skimming through something on his open laptop while she watches him, arms crossed.

Shinichi treads very lightly into the room. "What – "

Three holographic screens pop into existence around him without so much as a tilt of Miyano's head. "See for yourself."

Shinichi recognises the topic of the news article right away. He'd heard about it earlier this afternoon on the radio (insert old man joke here, ha ha ha), though the report had been brief – a highly unusual robbery with an advance notice during a rare gem exhibition at the Tokyo Met art museum.

This article goes into more detail, and a quick look at the other screens shows information that Shinichi's pretty sure isn't available to most of the media or general public: surveillance footage, police reports, floorplans and blueprints.

None of it explains Miyano's interest in the matter, though, or why they've been called here. It's not Avengers business by any stretch of the word.

He can see the same confusion reflected on Hattori's face when he looks back up.

Miyano notices, because she rolls her eyes but at least begins to explain. "I've been getting AGASA to filter through both local and international news coverage to find anything of relevance to us – keywords, facial recognition, all the works. Which is why he brought this to my attention earlier today."

Shinichi glances back to the screens. They certainly hadn't been mentioned in any of the reports, but surely the videos – ?

"No, they're too badly-positioned to have recorded anything useful," Miyano continues, confirming his thought process. "By themselves, at least. _But_ I, quite unlike the Tokyo MPD, have nearly infinite technological resources at my disposal, for all practical purposes. Leading me to this."

Then she pulls up another screen.

Both Shinichi and Hattori stop and stare at the blurry outline of a face. A _very_ familiar face.

Hattori finds his voice first. "Ya sure about this, neechan?"

"This is a composite image, of course," interjects the AI almost apologetically. "But accounting for the shadows caused by the hat, monocle, and any variation in lighting – I'd estimate it to be about eighty-seven percent accurate."

"Given that you were otherwise occupied at the time, I've been checking the alibis of every other person in Japan at the time who answers to that description. Did you know, you have a ridiculous number of doppelgangers, Kudo-kun?" Miyano adds irritably, as if it's _his_ fault that Kuroba and however-many-others exist.

Which – Shinichi was definitely born first, okay. Everyone else is just lacking originality.

"No luck on almost all of those, I'm guessin'?" Hattori asks, obviously having reached the same conclusion as Shinichi.

"No," Miyano confirms with a nod. "Between SNS posts, handphone GPS, and CCTV, we've been able to rule out all but one person. And then there's this."

The image disappears, to be replaced by a short, shakily-recorded clip from – probably Twitter, Shinichi thinks, which still definitively shows a white-clad figure shooting a grappling hook to the next building with an effortless accuracy that he's only ever seen in two particular snipers.

And Ran had been with Shinichi and the rest of them, dealing with the latest alien incident that'd left everyone in dire need of a hot shower. Or several.

"I'm going to murder Kuroba myself," declares Shinichi blithely.

"Get in line," Hattori retorts, though he sounds more gleeful than anything.

"You see why I called for a third opinion," says Miyano, then pauses. "Well, third opinions. Third and fourth opinions. Whichever."

"I call third!" crows Hattori immediately just as Shinichi wonders, "Does it count as two opinions if you wrote the AI yourself?"

"I am my own intelligence," Agasa-hakase answers instead. "And my opinion came first in this case, I'd say."

* * *

The call to Hawkeye's secure non-emergency line rings for almost a full minute before he picks up – in a spot where there definitely isn't what resembles the light through a ventilation grating throwing bars of shadow over Kuroba's face, and Shinichi definitely does not hear what sounds like a museum docent giving a guided tour in the background.

(It wouldn't even be difficult to narrow down a list of museums which gives tours this late in the evening.

Seriously. Shinichi already can remember Sonoko having mentioned something about extended opening hours to celebrate the Suzuki museum's fiftieth anniversary, and that's just off the top of his head.)

"Wha––t?" Kuroba asks, in a voice that trails distinctly upwards when he catches sight of the expressions on their faces.

"Kuroba-kun," Miyano says in that politely scathing tone she reserves for longwinded supervillain rants, parties, and particularly stupid software bugs. "Do tell me that you didn't retire from superheroing just to become a phantom thief."

"I did not retire from superheroing just to become a phantom thief," Kuroba parrots obediently.

 _Too_ obediently.

Then he adds "Also, the diamond was acquired illegally from its previous owner, the police should be finding that out shortly" as if that helps matters at all.

Shinichi and Miyano stare flatly at Kuroba, then reach for the the End Call button at the same time.

"Hey–!" they hear Kuroba protest just as the screen cuts to black.

Miyano pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "Advise Kuroba-kun that he should wear some kind of mask, at least. But _not_ one of the photostatic veils. Or any of the other tech traceable to me or SHIELD, for that matter. Crosscheck with the list we provided to the Accords committee, just to be safe."

Shinichi winces at the possible chaos of _that_ particular minefield going off. The only saving grace here (or more accurately a technicality) is the fact that the heist had occurred firmly within Japan's boundaries, and that Kuroba without any of the equipment associated with Hawkeye or SHIELD is just plain old Kuroba.

Which is to say, more trouble than he's worth.

"And also inform him that I won't be paying his bail this time," Miyano continues after a moment.

"Sent," comes the professor's voice after a second. "He seems rather upset at your assumption that he'd let himself get caught by anyone, much less the police."

"Remind him of all the _other_ times I've paid his bail," Miyano replies archly. "Including the clown incident."

What clown incident, Shinichi would ask, except that he really, really doesn't want to know.

(On the other screen, Hattori's still laughing so hard that he's fallen off his chair.)


End file.
